


Lithium

by zuotian



Category: South Park
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Masturbation, Sharing a Body, Sharing a Brain, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuotian/pseuds/zuotian
Summary: Every time Kenny dies, a piece of his soul latches onto Cartman.Cartman is a struggling mall cop with a perverted, self-proclaimed guardian angel.





	Lithium

**Author's Note:**

> ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFICTION—EVEN THOSE BASED ON A REAL SHOW—ARE ENTIRELY GRATUITOUS. ALL CANONICAL DIALOGUE IS IMPERSONATED ... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFICTION CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.

Cartman fucking hated his job. He basically had to sit at a desk all day, unless he got to zip around on a glorified Razor scooter. And the entire time he had to wear an idiotic uniform.

He was halfway through his shift. The mall had hit a lull. It was around this time Cartman would start spewing nonsense into the intercom.

“Big black balls,” Cartman said.

He held his hand over the mic and snickered, listening to the words ‘big black balls’ echo throughout the South Park shopping mall.

“Big fat titties and big vaginas!”

Cartman scowled, cut the mic feed off, and sat back in his chair.

“What the fuck, Kenny,” he said, seemingly to himself. “That wasn’t even original.”

[Oh, and ‘big black balls’ was?]

“Big black balls are always hilarious!”

A third voice entered the fray: “They are?”

The voice was deadpan, and nasally. Cartman groaned.

Good going, Kenny, he thought.

[It’s not my fault you talk out loud to the dude in your head.]

“Hey, Craig,” Cartman said. He leaned forward in his seat and rested his arms on the mall’s help desk. “How can I help you? Our mall directories are hereuh, and thereuh.” He pointed, respectively.

“Stop saying shit over the intercom,” Craig ordered. His uniform was different, and it had a bigger badge; he was Cartman’s superior.

“There’s nobody here,” Cartman said. “It’s one in the afternoon. All the old people left, and school isn’t out yet, so no teenagers. Thank Christ.” He turned the mic back on. “Craig Tweak is a faggot.”

[Haha. Nice one.]

Craig lunged across the counter and shut the intercom off. He took Cartman’s collar and pulled the much larger man over the desk with one hand.

“You forget I’m a sumo wrestler,” Craig said. “And it’s because of you, fatass.”

[Tell him to shut up!]

I can’t, Cartman thought, struggling against Craig’s admittedly considerable grip.

“Shut the fuck up, I’ll knife ya!”

The words expelled out of Cartman’s mouth. One of his hands flew to his belt, where he kept a stupid switchblade sheathed, because Kenny insisted on it, at times like these.

Craig shoved him to the floor, eyebrows raised in contest. “Don’t fuck with me, man.”

Cartman raised his hands in surrender. “My blood pressure is low. I need a Snickers.”

“You’re a stupid, immature man baby,” Craig said. He sidled behind the help desk and pulled Cartman up to his feet. “I’m taking over here. Go patrol the first wing of floor two.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Craig shooed him away. “Scooter off, jackass.”

“Bullshit ass motherfucker,” Cartman mumbled, mounting his segway.

“What did you say?”

“Boy, do I love my mother.”

Cartman flipped him off, beating Craig at Craig’s own game; and in his eyes, that made him the real winner.

He went off on his segway adventure, muttering to himself. The patrons of the mall were used to this, and ignored Cartman for the most part, unless he chose to release his authority. Right now, he was too preoccupied.

“I can’t believe you were gonna shank him,” Cartman was saying, swerving between shoppers laden with bags. “You’re gonna cost me this fucking job, shanking my boss.”

[I wasn’t really going to shank him. He just needed to be reminded of the threat.]

“The threat? What, is that you?”

[Duh.]

“Okay, well—” Cartman sent those around him a furtive glance, and forced himself to be quiet.

You’re only in my fucking head!

[I’m the unseen threat.]

Are you fucking Jason Bourne?

[I wish, Matt Damon is kinda hot.]

“Matt Damon is the devil,” Cartman insisted out loud.

An elderly woman walking toward a Christmas ornament kiosk turned to veer at him. “Excuse me?”

“Might dye my own shovel,” Cartman said, without slowing his segway.

His face contorted into a sneer once he passed her.

“I just want one normal day. That’s all I ask.”

[How about me? I’m fucking dead!]

“You’re dead for one person. I’m alive for two. Two for one.”

[You make no sense.]

“I’m going fucking crazy!”   
  
[You’re getting worse at this.]

Cartman halted sharply and dismounted his segway. He was next to the bathrooms by the elevators.

He stormed into the mens’ room. He gripped one of the sinks, staring hard at his own reflection.

“Just one normal fucking day,” he said. “That’s all I want! Can’t you just be quiet?”

[Do you know what it’s like, only having half a temporal form that’s not even yours?]

“Do you know what it’s like to have half a brain,” Cartman shrieked. “No! Never mind, don’t say anything!”

[Really set that one up for me.]

Cartman scrubbed his hands through his hair and checked his watch. It was only 1:10 PM. He had until 5:00 PM. After 5:00 PM, he would go home, get smash faced drunk, go to sleep, hope Kenny came back to life the next morning, and they would fuck until Kenny remembered how to have a stupid ass temporal form again. All that was only three hours, fifty minutes away.

[First wing, floor two.]

Cartman sighed; he’d already forgotten. “Thanks,” he said, and splashed his face with water. “How much longer, do you know?”

Sometimes, Kenny could tell.

[I don’t know.]

Sometimes, Kenny couldn’t tell.

Cartman shut his eyes. It’d been a long time, this time. Every now and then, the waiting overwhelmed him, made him sick; death was still hard, even if it was temporary. Kenny was still gone from the Earth in all but thought. Cartman often wondered if Kenny was dead for real, and he was just hallucinating Kenny’s voice.

Then, Cartman’s head moved on its own accord. He felt like a windup doll, unwinding.

Kenny was forcing him to look back into the mirror. “This is real,” his mouth said.

“Aw shit,” Cartman said, and tore away from the sink. He paced the length of the empty bathroom. “It’s been—three weeks?”

[Yeah. Almost a month.]

Cartman got through a year, once. It was manageable, until Kenny finally came back. The relief upon seeing him in person again was literally orgasmic, in body, mind, and soul. Whenever Kenny’s absence dragged on, Cartman remembered that year, and worried if it would happen again.

[I don’t think so, dude. You were basically alcoholic, by the time I managed to get back. I think...I think you, like, tether me. But at that point, you were too far gone.]

“So it’s all my fault?” Cartman demanded. “Great!”

[No. You’re kinda saving my soul. And I guess I’m your guardian angel. So relax. I wanna jerk off to the Victoria Secret tapes.]

“Jesus Christ,” Cartman said. He finally left the bathroom, and hopped back onto his segway. He took the elevator to the second floor’s security room.

The room was small, mostly occupied by a long panel of controls. Mounted above this were several screens showing live security feeds. Each floor had its own security hub, and the bottom floor had the main security facilities.

But the smaller hubs were manned singularly. Cartman locked the door, just to be safe. Then, he overrided the security footage on this room, specifically, playing back a prerecorded clip of himself sitting at the control panel; it looped ad infinitum.

The thing with not having a temporal body, Kenny told Cartman once, is that you can’t get off—not really, not how it counts. But, since Kenny could hijack Cartman’s senses, he could kind of jackoff.

Cartman was a gay man. He wasn’t a queermo like Garrison, a homosexual like Kyle, or a faggot like Craig. He was just gay. Specifically, he was gay for Kenny, and hated the rest of the human race. On the other hand (literally), Kenny was a bisexual man slut. And Kenny just didn’t give a shit when it came to Cartman’s sexual preferences, if he wanted to jerk off.

Case in point, Kenny liked to watch the Victoria Secret’s dressing rooms. Cartman has had this job for about three years; when Kenny first learned of Cartman’s access to such footage, he was actually pissed, because Cartman hadn’t told him sooner. But Cartman was gay, chicks were lame, and it didn’t register on his radar.

He brought the feed up anyway, minutely adjusting the camera angle per Kenny’s instruction.

[Closer, to the girl on the far right. No, that’s a fucking mom—yeah, her! Stop!]

“Gross,” Cartman muttered. “Is she legal?”

[Her boobs are at least D cup, so, I have no fucking clue.]

“I’m going to get arrested,” Cartman said. “I’m going to get arrested for jacking off to an underage girl trying on bras for her massive, overripe breasts. Then, I’m going to have to say my dead boyfriend who lives in my head made me do it. Then, I’ll have to go to a mental institution, where they’ll dope me up so bad I’ll never even get to talk to you again—CARTMAN!”

Cartman’s teeth clicked shut mid-tirade. He was all sweaty, almost hyperventilating.

[Your heart rate is going crazy. You’re having a panic attack.]

Don’t tell me what I’m having, Cartman thought. What I’m having is none of your bullshit. Are you a heart monitor now, too?

He was too tired to try and hold a conversation half out loud. It was just easier to curl in on himself, live in his head, and soak up as much of Kenny as he could, without going crazy.

[Relax, baby.]

Cartman’s hand drifted into the pocket of his pants. There was a hole cut out from the bottom. Cartman licked his lips, shoving his hand through and taking his own dick.

He kept his eyes half-lidded, enough to give Kenny a vague sense of the girl’s breasts, without having to focus in on them. He sunk into his chair, and tried to ignore all the nerve endings in his arm, to let Kenny have control.

His cock was rock hard at this point. It always went fast. Especially when Cartman eased up. Kenny glided close against his mind, filled all the negative space inside of him. He was going to explode.

“Kenny,” Cartman moaned, bringing his other hand up to rub at himself through the front of his pants.

[It’s okay, Cartman. I got it.]

Suddenly, images of himself flashed through his mind. They were memories, but outside of his body. He saw his own self, getting pummeled into the mattress by Kenny’s dick. He saw himself above Kenny, his meaty arms holding Kenny in place. He was Kenny, fucking and getting fucked.

Cartman came with a cry.

It took himself a second to realize. Once the buzz settled in his head, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket, he heard Kenny’s soothing voice.

[It’s okay. I love you. Stop crying.]

“What?” Cartman asked. His voice was hoarse, and any spoken words at all felt unnatural.

[You’re crying.]

Cartman looked up, and saw himself in the reflection of the Victoria’s Secret feed, eyes watery and filled with tears.

He covered his face with his hands, tried breathing through it. Sometimes, he made Kenny breathe for him. “I miss you,” he said through gritted teeth.

[I miss you too. It’ll be fine. Just a little longer.]

Cartman’s mouth moved. “I love you.”

Who said it? He didn’t know. At this point, it didn’t matter. 

**Author's Note:**

> watched kenny dies, and i just had to spend an hour writing this even if i should be in bed. but thats what college is for
> 
> i want to revisit this concept sometime soon, with a larger fic 
> 
> title taken from the nirvana song. just read the lyrics, and come back lol


End file.
